


Clumsiness

by Michinokao



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante Lives, Emotions, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I do what I want with this one, I guess it's angsty? I think it is, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecurity, M/M, Self-Worth Issues, So not canon, The feels, it's not really underage, jumbled happenings, they're both idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19840582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michinokao/pseuds/Michinokao
Summary: Rocinante always refuses to take off his clothes when Law looks at him. It annoys the boy greatly up until he sees the reason why.In which they are closer, share some secrets and just... live.





	Clumsiness

Law sighs in annoyance. Of course Corazon refuses yet again to reveal his body – no wonder, he’s done that the last fifteen times he has taken a bath as well. Should there be the slightest possibility of Law even glancing at his makeshift caretaker while said man is naked, Donquixote Rocinante blatantly ignores the request.

Now, some may be suspicious as to why the thirteen year old wants to bathe with Corazon but the reality is quite different from what one would expect. Law _doesn’t_ want to see the younger Donquixote brother naked, not at all. He merely doesn’t want to wake up to a hastily clad Rocinante coughing his lungs out because he’s nearly drowned again. That has happened six times so far and Law is on the brink of just tearing apart Corazon’s clothes to look at what’s so important for the man to go to such lengths hiding it.

It can’t be worse than the light patches that have started to show up on Law’s own body. “Maybe it’s a tattoo?” the boy muses to himself one night, “But what the hell kind of tattoo is worth dying to hide? A tramp stamp? A tattoo sleeve showing Doflamingo in a sexy pose?” The teen shudders as the imagery enters his head. While yes, both of those options certainly would be quite hideous sights, he doesn’t deem them crucial enough.

Perhaps Rocinante has a disease similar to Law’s? That doesn’t make any sense either as Law has seen the man’s torso before and it looked alright. Whatever it is that Corazon doesn’t want him to spot, it’s located on either his arms or legs.

Law decides to spend the rest of the day reading. No point in trying to persuade somebody who’s so adamant about it. He’ll probably end up being woken up by rattling breaths and cursed words as the nagi nagi no mi’s effect fades due to Rocinante’s shock of falling into the river. The idiot has it coming. No need to feel bad about it...

Of course, Law does feel bad about it when it happens. For some reason unfathomable to himself, he has grown to like this moronic clown.   
In the middle of the night, he has been sleeping for a couple of hours probably, he hears the usual splash followed by the ceremonial string of foul language and lung-wrecking coughs. However, this time Law doesn’t notice the immediate rustling of fabric being forcefully draped over the large body.

He blinks and turns around. Rocinante is holding his wrist in dismay – it’s bleeding as far as the boy can tell in the poor lighting.

“La-Law, you’re awake?!” the man hurries to grab the feathery coat but it’s out of his reach. In the pale moonlight Law sees them for the first time. If some of them weren’t still red and so strikingly different from the pale skin, he would have clearly missed them. Because of his eyes adjusting to the lack of real light source and because of his trained skill to focus on tiny things usually not picked up by others, Law can get a good glimpse on what has to be over a hundred scars. He isn’t dumb, even when he’d been a kid in Flevance he’d been smart enough to read about various illnesses and how they affect the human body.

He has seen some bad shit. His mind is no longer that of a child.

“Why?” Law asks as professionally as he can. Corazon doesn’t answer. He shakily drapes over the coat, nothing else, and fishes out his pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

“Why what, Law?” Rocinante utters quietly after a few moments of calmly taking drags and blowing out the smoke into the night sky. His grin is wonky and wobbly but it doesn’t vanish as he tries to block out the boy’s discovery.

“Don’t be foolish.” Law spits out, “I mean the fucking self harm scars all over you. Why?! Come on, tell me.” Corazon’s smile becomes less and less bright. He subconsciously hunches his shoulders as if to retreat into the safety of a shell. Nonetheless, he shrugs and answers: “I don’t know anything about self harm scars. Oh – you mean those?” he points at his arm, “I’m just clumsy. You know that by now.”

“Bullshit” Law comes closer to the man. He takes the large hand into his and carefully examines both the wrist and simultaneously rolls up the coat’s sleeve. Rocinante flinches back but Law doesn’t let go. He gently touches the scars which are luckily not very fresh. “Jesus, damn. How long have you been doing this to yourself?” the boy murmurs.

“...early marine days.”

“So you _are_ a marine.”

Rocinante pulls his arm back weakly. Again, Law doesn’t allow it. “I hate marines.” he says and feels small tremors under his fingertips which are growing more prominent each second, “But I don’t hate you. Besides, the fact that some of them apparently made you begin this shit makes me hate them even more.”

“You don’t hate me?” How can a fucking grown up man sound so broken, Law wonders.

The boy sits down in front of the elder who’s huddled in his black feathers, cigarette still lit.

“Dumbass.” Law says _definitely not_ fondly, “We’ve been travelling together for three months. You actually want to find a cure for me. How could I hate you?”

“L-Law... you don’t have to like me because of that, though. I mean I can understand if you don’t.”

Law huddles closer to Rocinante, his eyes calculating. “True. I’m not obligated to like you.” His fingers grace the row of deep scars once more, “But then again, you’re not obligated to like me either. You do, though, don’t you?”

Corazon breathes out a wad of smoke. The corners of his mouth curl up slightly. “Of course I do.” he says.

“Good. Now let me fix that mess.” With cunning movements, the wound on Rocinante’s wrist (caused by a rock on which he fell, Law muses) is patched up. Both of them are resting in a comfortable silence and afterwards, when the bandage is fastened on the elder’s appendage, Corazon stands up and finally properly dresses himself.

A couple of moments later, they lie next to each other, shoulders barely making contact. Neither can sleep – Law because he still ponders over the revelation and Rocinante because he’s highly embarrassed. It’s not every day that his scars are seen by eyes other than his own.

“When was the first time you did it?” Law’s voice croaks when only crickets cloud the air with noise.

Rocinante sighs quietly, thinking back to the incident. Just as Law is about to take back the question – it’s insensitive and the man doesn’t need to answer it; his own past is halfway veiled – the younger Donquixote brother begins: “I was fifteen and my division went out on the training field. The others... well” he huffs and chuckles bitterly, “they didn’t like me. I was used to their antics. It wasn’t anything new. I often got shit because I’m Fleet Admiral Sengoku-san’s charge. Sure, it wasn’t nice but I thought it only came from that and not because I’m actually useless. That day however...”

Rocinante halts but continues when a small hand grabs his larger one: “Sengoku-san came to watch our progress. When it was my turn, I tripped. I could deal with the laughter and our coach’s exasperation but later on... later on I heard Sengoku-san talking to our coach. Sengoku-san asked whether I am good enough to continue or not. My coach said I was the most useless and dumb student he’s ever had... I didn’t think I was _that_ bad... apparently I was.”

“But you can’t be that bad now, can you?” Law asks intrigued.

“I’m not.” Corazon answers, “Not anymore. Later that day, I was taken out of the trainee program and became a direct apprentice under Sengoku-san’s tutelage. Felt pretty shitty to be so bad that I had to have special training. Even then... I’m only a commander. After nearly eight years of training with the fucking _Fleet Admiral..._ well, anyways. I did it after I became aware of my uselessness. Somehow, it helped me calm down. Every time I feel worthless and stupid I do it. Nobody knows about it besides you. I’d like to keep it that way if you know what I mean.”

“I’m not going to tell anybody.” The younger one says. Law feels a lump in his throat when the realization hits. _Every time I feel worthless and stupid_ – yes, it’s been going on for a while as Rocinante has supplied but nonetheless the sheer number of scars is by now nearly uncountable as some of them layer over others. How many times has this man experienced the deeply seated, gut wrenching feel of hopeless worthlessness?

Rocinante’s fingers relax after Law’s confirmation. They lie next to each other, bodies now pressed a little tighter against one another. Slowly, the lump dissipates and Law’s heart jumps when he hears a sleepy and soft “Thanks”. At the same time his eyes begin to water – emotional, entirely too emotional for Law’s liking. Though he doesn’t stop the tears from falling. Why does he cry? Why does his heart thump as if it’s about to explode, making him flustered?

While Roci nods off into sleep, Law stays awake for much longer. Their hands are still somewhat intertwined and their skin, roughened by the use of weaponry, touches. Law can’t get over this fact however hard he tries to but he doesn’t want to cut off the gentle brushing either. Irritating.

He falls asleep eventually when the sun is merely an hour away from rising.

Days go by and Law doesn’t press Rocinante’s self harm issues. He doesn’t pry and he doesn’t stare. What he does, however, is to look out for the older one. It starts when Corazon tumbles over a rock and most people wouldn’t have seen it – the short flash of humiliation and _pain_ , not physical but mental – but the teenager now knows what signs to watch out for. It’s almost too easy. Fucking incompetent marines, Law thinks, how the hell could they miss it?

He’s still a pirate, still kind of aloof and emotionally stunted, so his comforts are rather subtle. When Rocinante’s hat falls off during another episode of clumsiness, Law hands it to him and averts the blonde’s eyes while examining if there are injuries. He doesn’t call him “stupid” anymore... and “idiot”, “fool”, “moron”, “clown” and “klutz” are avoided as well. That, though, happens almost subconsciously and absurdly naturally. 

Law’s condition worsens and every morning he wakes up he’s glad he isn’t dead yet. He pretends to not notice Corazon’s concerned stares. It’s a shit show, all of it, and the two of them just so happen to be in the midst of it. No prayers could help them and a miracle doesn’t seem to want to appear out of thin air.

But then, when the teenager feels death waning over him like an apprehensive companion, Corazon storms into the little hut in which they’ve been hiding for two days. They’re on a winter island, somewhere near Apple Nine, and Rocinante only wanted to halt here because of the slight chance that there’s actually something interesting hiding in between kilometres of undisturbed snow.

“Law! Law, listen to me! Can you hear me?” the man inquires excitedly with the broadest grin the sick boy has ever seen on his partner in crime.

Deliriously, he nods to signal he’s coherent enough for the conversation.

“They were talking about a devil fruit – about the ope ope no mi! It’s _here_ , Law!”

The ope ope no mi... Law’s tired eyes widen slightly. He’s thought about eating devil fruits before; to be honest, he’s thought about eating specifically this devil fruit before, and he never truly came to the conclusion whether he’d really do it or not. After all, there’s no guarantee that it works to cure his illness. And Doflamingo will definitely hunt him down if he really consumes it.

But... Rocinante’s grin is so bright, a ray of sunshine amidst the dark, grimy room.

“C-Call your marine... _friends_. Let’s not risk it. W-We h-have” Law breaks off, coughing into his white mottled fist, “We have to be careful. If word gets out, Doflamingo will kill us both. Y-You know h-how fast he can be.”

Corazon is silent for a moment until he swallows and nods seriously. “I’m going to call them now. There should be one or two marine ships nearby. Don’t worry, I’m good at infiltration – I’ll get the fruit and bring it to you. Even if I get hurt, it should be alright if the marines are on the way.”

Law dozes off after giving his okay and Rocinante picks up his den den mushi. “Here goes nothing...” he thinks cynically but nevertheless types in the number.

An elderly lady picks up. Vice Admiral Tsuru’s voice greets the man. “Hello?”

“Commander Rocinante here. I’d usually not endanger a mission as severe as this one but I’ll need support in sector C. My brother’s probably on the way already and I don’t know exactly what he’s truly capable of. Further on... are we in the clear?”

After a tense moment of silence, Tsuru speaks up: “Yes. Nobody but me is here.”

Rocinante lets out a sigh. “Good” he says, “I would have let you know via an encoded message but we can’t allow anything to go wrong here. So I’ll outright tell you now. Vice Admiral Vergo works for my brother.”

“A-Are you sure, Commander?” nothing but a slight croak at the beginning of the sentence betrays Tsuru’s shock. She takes it better than he’d expected her to, Rocinante muses.

He answers seriously: “I am. I have several pieces of evidence against him. Furthermore, you should know that the island Dressrosa is in danger of being attacked in the upcoming months or years. That’s all the information I can tell you for now. I am... I am sure that my brother is on his way. Please stay near my location or else he will be able to easily cut off our connection.”

After his speech, the den den mushi’s facial features take on a hardened expression. The vice admiral’s voice replies with such a no-nonsense tone that Rocinante finds himself smiling a little: “Of course, brat. Do you think I would let you down? Sengoku wouldn’t ever forgive me if I did!”

“...thank you...” he whispers and because he feels just the tiniest bit cheeky, he adds: “Tsuru-baa”

“Donquixote Rocina-!” before she’s able to begin a lecture, he cuts off the connection. Sheepishly, he chuckles to himself but regains his composure fast.

He still has to infiltrate some pirates and steal a devil fruit.

°°°

In another world, his heart would have beaten so fast it nearly sprang out of his chest, letting him become lightheaded and tipsy.

In another world, he would have yet again tripped and tipped himself off due to the nervousness inside of his wonky, unsure body.

In another world, he doesn’t have the knowledge that marines camp nearby (and while they don’t know exactly what his goal is, they’re still ready to interfere if something goes awry).

Luckily, though, in this world, Rocinante concentrates ( _breathe, kid, you’re way too anxious – no wonder you keep tripping left and right!_ he hears Sengoku-san say) just enough not to fall down, not to blew the infiltration. Just enough to safely retreat with a devil fruit clutched close to his heart with trembling, freezing fingers and a huge grin on his red-painted lips.

Law was right (of course he was, he most of the time is, despite his youth) and Doflamingo and his crew (Vergo included) are immediately spotted and apprehended near his location. However, Rocinante doesn’t know this – he only has one thing on his mind and that sure as hell is not his cruel brother.

Safe him, safe him, safe him, he chants to himself, running fast and for once gracefully. He can later on set himself on fire, he can later on tumble into the cold, harsh sea, he can later on sprain his ankle and get shot in his ass by his own pistol.

For now, he has to be just a little bit less Donquixote Rocinante, the marine klutz and a little bit more Corazon, the ruthless and efficient assassin.

°°°

“Law! I’m back, you have to wake up!” Rocinante gently shakes the boy’s shoulders, pulling Law out of his illness induced sleep. He blinks up at the blond dazedly, eyes travelling south to the odd looking thing Cora-san holds in his large palms.

“I-Is that it?” Law slurs, inspecting the fruit as well as he can while his head spins.

“Yeah... it’s the ope ope no mi.” the Donquixote says, still awed that he was able to steal it without causing a commotion. But he pulls himself out of his astonishment and brings it to Law’s mouth.

“H-Hey, w-wait! Wh- Cora-san! - MRMMRMPHH!”

Rocinante gives absolutely zero fucks at the moment and just shoves it into Law’s throat. Call him cruel but he won’t kneel there and listen to the boy’s undoubtedly elaborate objections while said boy is dying all the same.

“CORA-SAN, WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Law yells angrily.

The man can’t help himself – he has to laugh.

“WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!”

“You... You’re already more energetic. The fruit works!” Cora-san answers with a huge grin, giving Law a sarcastic thumbs up.

“...shut up.” Law grumbles, pulling his dotted fur hat deeper down to hide his own matching smile. They did it, didn’t they? They really stole one of the most wanted devil fruits in history without getting a single scratch. Law nonetheless still has to cough from time to time, although the symptoms seem lessened for the moment. He’ll have to figure out how this shit works sooner or later.

 _They_ ’ll have to figure out how this shit works. They’re safe. Both of them. Rocinante’s grin falls off his face. The adrenaline in his body subsides and he draws in a deep breath as he completely reverts into a sitting position. He isn’t dead. Even though he has long since accepted the fact that there was a near hundred percent chance of Doflamingo offing him, the relief of still being alive catches him off-guard. It’s a heavy emotion, suffocating him in the softest way possible.

“Cora-san? Why are you crying?”

Law’s voice harbours a concerned tone but Rocinante just shakes his head and slowly circles the boy’s shoulders with his arms, bringing him into a hug.

“I-It’s nothing. I’m just. I’m so happy, Law!” A sob, another, shaky fingers clutching into fabric. Law’s own eyes fill with unshed tears. He listens to Cora-san’s heartbeat and for the first time he realizes how much he loves this goofy, klutz of a marine spy. And for the first time he notices just how lucky they are.

“We’re fucking alive, aren’t we, Cora-san?” the teenager asks wide-eyed.

“We are.” Rocinante answers equally shaken.

Alive. They truly are alive.

°°°

“Is this really alright for you?”

“Law, from the moment I’ve decided to help you, I always knew it was going to end like this if we both survived.”

Rocinante smiles broadly. “Besides” he says, “I don’t really mind it. Ever since I researched what happened in Flevance, I didn’t know if I could ever trust the government again. I don’t think I can.”

Law leans against the man. “Good. There’s no turning back now.”

A white paw finishes painting the Jolly Roger of the Heart Pirates onto the surface of the yellow submarine.

“Cause you’re my first mate and I’m not letting you go.” the fourteen year old finishes his thought, smirking devilishly.

But Roci is used to the teenager’s cheeky remarks, so he just says entirely honest: “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

°°°

 _Surgeon of Death_ Trafalgar Law – Dead or Alive – 25.000.000 beri

 _Heart Stealer_ Cora-san – Dead or Alive – 16.600.000 beri

“W-What?! Why do I have a bounty?!”

“That’s entirely your own fault.”

“What? How is that my fault?! It was an accident!”

“How can you accidentally steal a king’s heart?!”

“It landed in my hood when you cut everyone up!”

“...”

Both of them look at the still beating heart of Akim Bikini, king of one of the most influential kingdoms in North Blue. It innocently lies on the table as if it weren’t a goddamn functioning organ.

“Should we maybe send it back per coo?” Rocinante asks unsurely, eyeing the thing.

Law snorts. “Sure. But you’re paying the fee.”

Sweat dribbles down from Cora-san’s face when he thinks to how much money he’ll have to spend. “Eh... could you give me to the marines on the next island? I think I’ll need my own bounty.”

Law shakes his head fondly with a small grin.

Of course they cash in Rocinante’s bounty – it’s ridiculously easy to use the ope ope no mi for something like that.

°°°

 _Dumb Asshole_ Cora-san, Dead or Alive, 45.000.000 beri

Kings can, apparently, influence epithets – as Rocinante learns.

“WHAT THE - ...I EVEN GAVE HIM HIS HEART BACK AND THAT’S HIS THANKS?! LAW, WE’RE HEADING BACK TO DANK ISLAND!”

°°°

 _Surgeon of Death_ Trafalgar Law, Dead or Alive, 66.000.000 beri

 _Castle Cremating_ Cora-san, Dead or Alive, 88.000.000 beri

“I love you.” he states nonchalantly when he sees the bounty poster.

“L-LAW?!”

°°°

“I still can’t believe you confessed to me like that.”

Law traces Rocinante’s scars carefully and doesn’t stop doing so while replying: “Did you expect anything else? You’ve known me for eleven years. You, of all people, should know better.”

“True that.” Rocinante chuckles, “I love you too, Law.”

“...You already told me eight times.”

“Doesn’t make it any less true.”

“You clown” the pirate captain says fondly.

For once, Rocinante doesn’t feel put down by the insult. How could he when it’s laced with so much affection?

**Author's Note:**

> I was like "Yeah, that's it" one day, probably because I begun this fic when I was still in the depths of hellish depression, suicidal thoughts and self-worth issues myself.
> 
> hahahahahaha, anyways  
> I kinda write things no one else writes. That's just one of them.


End file.
